Garmoniya
by The Aura Whisperer
Summary: A riolu struggles to survive and live through the remains of the leftover civilization Garmoniya, his homeland. He records on a personal narrative of the unimaginable sights he sees and also the other Pokémon survivors he encounters. No laws or rules exist anymore, and anything goes for one to get through another day...
1. The Past

**So I'm in college now as a Freshman and I need to get back into the groove of writing and other related projects. I thought I'd do a story with short chapters so it can take into account of a first person expedition of certain events to the character.  
><strong>

**For those who do follow along, I want you to be aware that I may get a little lazy along the way or I may get a bit busy with whatever I'm obligated to do. Also, some chapters may even be longer at random times, but I wouldn't expect it to be in a linear pattern or over 2,500 words.**

**Anyway, enjoy.**

* * *

><p>Things will never be the same again.<p>

*sniff* At least, not the way the past conveyed it. Right now I'm sitting on a log overlooking a field full of sunflowers. It's cloudy out, and the sky shines a bright gray. Heh, it's ironic. Something so beautiful in front of me—_sun_flowers—but the dimness above says otherwise. Guess there's really nothing truly foolproof, or perhaps a flaw to everything.

I strip the blade of grass in my paw, strand by strand, until I have a collection of shreds. *sigh* Life ends by another. I killed the grass, no more will it produce glucose. The woods beside me to the right sway and obey the winds of the world. The powerful always push the weak.

Garmoniya wasn't necessarily that perfect. I mean, the residents usually were amiable and willing to help each other, more so the smaller communities like where I'm from. Or, where I _came_ from. But still, not everyone had the money to eat every night or support their families like the other kingdoms around Garmoniya. And the water supply from the aqueducts sometimes got contaminated with pathogens. Hell, we got used to it though and just boiled it out. I almost got to the point where I thought life couldn't get any worse or better.

. . .

I wonder what could have caused all this. The world, or Garmoniya if at smallest, is oh so silent now. The markets full of thriving Pokémon are now deserted; only knocked over kiosks and various items scattered around them. Empty towns. Empty streets. Not even a mayor or sheriff.

. . .

Hehe. I remember when my friend Wade, a riolu like me, would do this thing where he'd suddenly have a playing card appear in his hand, close it, and somehow it'd end up in my backpack I always carried things in. He jokingly called me a klepto, to where I'd dismiss him as being a klutz . . . Heh, good times.

. . .

I never was knowledgeable with my emotions. I enjoyed the simple things: being alone and enjoying my free time, thinking about ideas and imagination, wondering how to do something new, but of course I'd always get any work or duties done before recreation. I was just always like that—a reclusive, erudite, and responsible Pokémon.

*sigh* I hurt inside. I know there are others out there who are by themselves trying to live, but my friends . . . my family. They're all gone. This feeling I have . . . it's like a quilt of pain that gently lay upon my heart, suffering as if it were asphyxiation. I feel no good. No reason to even try anymore. What's the point in living if nearly everyone else didn't?

. . .

My emotions . . . I guess with that being said, I had them in a dark corner away from everything else for most of my life while the ideas and thinking participated lively in the living room.

. . .

I feel liquid forming in the bottom of my eyes. Another gust of wind passes by, and I let go. My paws bury into them, and I sob ineptly. I try to refrain from making the stupid sulking sounds, and did somewhat successfully. There were a few hiccups, but I think I'm getting used to it.

I know no one is around me, but I can't help but feel afraid of somebody who may pass up and see me like this. It'd be so embarrassing—um, not like they'd care; they'd probably have . . . _other _intentions.

*sniff* Ugh, I don't need to stay stationary for too long. If I do I'll start to think too much, and it will bring my mind to the past. The past . . . I hate to even bring it to topic.

But it's over, I should move on and accept that . . . but it still has its influence on the now.


	2. Wagon

After I saddled up and got my backpack on from the sunflower field, I walk down the main road of Garmoniya between a valley. The sun finally reveals around the clouds above a mountain in the background and provides warmth to all that live under it. The dirt path beneath my feet shifts and sticks sometimes to my pads, and it aggravates the hell out of me. I can't walk well when I can't grip to the ground. But I stop bitching about it and continue.

The small silver charm on my necklace dangles on my furry, black chest. I glanced at it and gave a brief pause, then opened up the little latch on it. An engraved note inside reads, "FOR MY SON, LUKE." Dad made that for me. He was a lucario who knew how to use aura. He'd make a shape or tool manipulating the energy, like a pencil, and mark or chisel stuff with it. When my eyes were barely opened as a younger Pokémon, I watched him use it on the charm. He smiled proudly and latched a tough string around it and wrapped it around my neck.

Dad. I didn't know how he died during the purge of Garmoniya, like nearly everyone else did, but I know he's at peace now. At least I hope. I keep looking at the charm and give a sigh. I really do miss him. The times he'd play his guitar with a pick and made it talk was the coolest thing ever. I always wanted to do that. How he'd dance like a fool when he was drunk off beer was a little distasteful, but the laughs he had while doing it could make anyone enjoy his presence. It made me laugh. He always laughed in a funny and weird way. How . . . . how he'd. He'd. Ugh . . . oh god. I need to stop. My heart's aching, and my eyes burn. I can't take this.

Gripping the charm tightly in my paw, the road curved to the right around a corner of trees and I conform to its direction. About ten yards in front of me was a knocked over pioneer wagon with empty open crates scattered around it. I excitedly run towards it to see what I could scavenge if it wasn't already. I was needing to get some food since I was running low on canned items.

As I get closer, a distinct stench radiated from the inside. I opened the flap and poke my head through it and quickly revolted in disgust. I gag and fall to the ground on my knees, vomit reaching up my throat and protesting to come out. What was inside was a dead kecleon that's entrails laid out all over the floor of the wagon. Its brain also lazily hung out of the busted cranium. It looked like it didn't happen too long ago since there weren't any flies or maggots.

I stood back up and regained my composure. Someone must have done this and hid the body inside for shits and giggles because there was nothing of value left in the vicinity, not even things without any use. They probably unforgivingly robbed the poor Pokémon and took it all, and _had some fun_ afterwards. I ripped the flap off and examined the body from a better distance, hoping not to get too sick.

I just stood there for few moments sinking in the reality of this cruel discovery. Shit like this _actually_ happens in Garmoniya now. From what I saw, it looked like a bladed weapon was used to murder the kecleon, according to the shaped cuts of skin the organs hung out of. There were also large bruises and fractures as well . . . It could have been more than one robber. One may have sliced the poor kecleon while the other bludgeoned. Guess that's how the skull was ruptured . . . Fucking sick-minded assholes.

I take some deep breaths and try to put my mind at ease, then further continue down the big trail. I don't need to stay there. It's too dangerous. They may come back.


	3. Encounter

I enter the wee town of Emonae on the east coast of Garmoniya. Several small-sized buildings stand on the sides of the main road, and small kiosks and residential houses aligned on the borders of the side paths as well. From what I read in newspapers from the former Pelipper Mail Service and non-fictional books, it was known for its healthy hemp production along with other agricultural developments. The hemp was often used for common products like shampoo, different food recipes, construction, and clothing, which proved to be an economic powerhouse—for a little town anyways.

It's been about forty-five minutes ago since I saw the horrific death of the kecleon, and I think my stomach has finally settled down. There's a medical facility to the left of the main road, probably about a hundred feet down. When you're surviving, you always seem to make time and distance estimations all the time.

I think it would be fine to take a load off at the facility and eat something, then get any supplies I need and continue my travels. It's probably a good idea to take a break anyway and try not to overwork my body.

The little path I walk on is quite desolate and serene, much like all the different roads in Garmoniya. The various plants and shrubbery on the grass beside softly sway to the wind, and I found a moment's solace. Listening. Feeling. Being one with the earth. I stop and close my red eyes, take a deep breath, and inhale the air. My fur brushing against itself. It feels so good. Like I could just forget all of this for the shortest time . . . I need to do this more.

The facility's door was closed to my delight (probably no one's been inside), and I satisfyingly sat on the porch steps. I take off my backpack, and pull out a can of baked beans. God damn, these things are so good at first and get so disgusting over time. The can opener held firm in my paw, steadily prepared to slice open the contents, and all of a sudden my senses tingle with the presence of another. The Lucario family line of emanation gives us the ability to detect individuals through a type of infrared ability, without even having a clear vision of the target.

I'm honestly scared to meet anyone in the anarchy of this land. My dad always said not to go with someone I didn't know, and stressed the importance of what these certain Pokémon may do. I heard they rape, practice drugs, murder others just for fun, and among other things. All of this was said in the civil world back then . . . I can't imagine of the focusing of all these things now.

My heart races through my chest, and the blood and adrenaline flows through my arms and legs. I stand up and tip-toe as quietly as possible to go around the porch to the back of the building, but it was already too late.

"Hey! You!" a tenor-like voice called out behind me, somewhat faint. I turned around to see a magby, about my height of two and a half feet, running towards my position. He had a black bandana around his neck, and also an arm band of the same color. He didn't carry anything and appeared to be a fresh survivor because it.

I regained my composure and tried to calm myself. I returned to the steps to which the other Pokémon approached.

"Uh, hi," I muttered, rubbing the back of my head and looking off somewhere else. I never was good with communicating because of my shyness, a curse that had to be added with my introversion. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh nothing at all. I haven't seen a single person in days!" he replied.

His voice was rash, brisk, and shaky. I had no idea why, but just his, I guess nervousness, made me nervous as well. The body he had was somewhat deprived of nutrients; I saw his ribcage and chills shivered throughout my spine and shoulders.

I paused, and examined him for a few brief bits.

"Are you all right?" I asked, not really concerned but to not make the conversation awkward with silence.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine!" He smiled and held his claws together in front of him politely.

I raised my left eye in question, then held a paw to my chin to think of what to say next. Something just was not right with this guy. He shook in excitement, was deprived, and the black he wore intimidated me. I slowly realized with an epiphany of who he was and took a step back, eyes locked on his. The friendly face he displayed now contorted to one of hostile determination. I blink in astonishment and frowned. Spontaneously, he lunged at me.

My back painfully landed on the wood floor, and a hard grunt escaped. Disoriented, the fire pokémon jumped on my torso and proceeded his attack. My throat was then tightly grasped in one of Magby's paws. I suffer as I feel like I'm going to black out, struggling to breath, the passages to my lungs frighteningly clenched and squeezed to my bare existence. He smiled sinisterly, a sharp tooth peeking through his bottom lip, and landed a good punch on my nose that caused blood to shoot out of my right nasal.

I flare with anger and contempt. This asshole thinks he's so good. With my limbs free, since he probably forgot and was so eager to kill me, I wrap my legs around his body, tightly clutch, and violently somersault him to the ground in the opposite direction. His head met with the wood, and he cried out in pain. I return to my feet and brushed off the dust that gathered on my fur. The blood running down my nose was wiped with my forearm.

"I'm done playing games with you." I hissed.

With the prick that lay below me wincing in agony, holding his poor head, I grabbed both of his lower appendages. My muscles strengthened and I swung him around the porch really fast in a circular manner. He yelled in fear and from the dizziness, and I could relate to him at this moment so, _so_ well. I had never been so scared in my whole life, and this had to end. I wanted it to end _so_ badly. I wanted my dad.

I then led him on to one of the columns that supported the roof on the facility. Instantly, a large thump was heard, the wailing ended, and I was physically forced to stop. I examine the damage and discovered that his head collapsed with the column, and he now lay there unconscious. At least, I think he is.

I breathed heavily in and out, trying to fathom to all that just happened. I had no idea that I'd be meeting someone today—someone who passionately desire to end my life—and I had no idea either that I had the fight in me. I never got into any fights growing up. In relation to my peers, I was most of the time quiet and whenever I made interaction I was pretty modest about it. They left me alone, as I did them. Whatever this monster inside me was . . . it growled.

I was no longer hungry, but I really had to take a piss. Still clouded in this array of fear and_ especially _fury, I relieved myself all of the fucking bastard. Bastard. How ironic. I made sure to get every square inch of the mother fucker, to let him know that he was a little bitch. What the hell was he thinking? And the moral mindset of it? Attacking, hurting, _killing_. Guess I didn't really want to believe Garmoniya truly became this. I put it aside, thinking of it like some crazy dream. But now I've gotten my fair share, and I learned that this is now the reality I, and many others, had to accept.

And now . . . it looks like I've become a part of it. I looked at what I had just did, and screamed in horror.


End file.
